


Blood Moon

by vanishedSchism



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Critical Role Relationship Week, I finally understand why Victor Hugo spend so much time learning about sewers, M/M, Molly is trans, They make super bad decisions though, Thuron's not dead!, so does Molly, tags will change, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 10:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14974904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishedSchism/pseuds/vanishedSchism
Summary: "You're going to die you know," Molly snapped. Even in the darkness the damning purple of Thuron's skin was obvious, as obvious as the Beacon in Molly's hands. "Which would make my life infinitely less complicated, I might add.""Shut up," Thuron said. It was the most they'd spoken since the initial kidnapping.Molly whistles, mostly to annoy them. "You're not winning any favor that way darling.""Your people would have killed me, I am no darling of yours."





	Blood Moon

**Author's Note:**

> I love Thuron, I love drow, and technically I wrote this for Critical Role Relationship Week, but I had this AU knocking around basically since the episode ended. I'm totally making this up as I'm going along, but I hope you have as much fun reading it as I'm having writing it!

Molly thought, as the drow assassin or thief or maybe terrorist pressed his own sword against his throat, that there were a few things he could have done to avoid this situation. Not stand so close to the assassin/thief/terrorist was foremost among them. 

But when had he ever made the right decisions when it came to criminals? 

"You really overestimate how much they care about me," he said, more annoyed at how _close_ he'd been to arguing to just leave this guy alone than the physical danger he himself was in. 

He could feel the Xhorhasian tremble where their body pressed against his. 

"Quiet," they hissed. "Give me the Beacon."

Beau glared, but Jester, dear Jester, understood the best way to deescalate the situation. She grabbed the Beacon and put it in Molly's hands. "We will find you," she said. "And you," she directed at Thuron, "you are very handsome, but you are also very mean. You should work on that." 

"I will kill him if you follow," Thuron said, wrapping a hand around Mollly, "do not." And then they began backing away, the blade of Molly's sword still at their captive's throat. 

Molly rolled his eyes as he was taken away. He had, as far as he could figure, a little more than half an hour before Thuron would consider killing him, unless he was _very_ annoying. 

He'd gotten out of tighter situations. He was in more danger of a misdirected attack than from the drow themself. 

Thuron kept Molly hostage even after they turned two corners and Molly was sure that his ragtag little group wasn't going to follow. Thuron had stayed completely silent except for the drip of their blood on the pavement (an easy trail to follow) and their increasingly heavy breathing. 

The silence was driving Molly mad. 

"You're going to die you know," he snapped. Even in the darkness the damning purple of Thuron's skin was obvious, as obvious as the Beacon in Molly's hands. "Which would make my life infinitely less complicated, I might add." 

"Shut up," Thuron said. It was the most they'd spoken since the initial kidnapping. 

Molly whistles, mostly to annoy them. "You're not winning any favor that way darling." 

"Your people would have killed me, I am no darling of yours." 

"They might have anyway," Molly said, grabbing Thuron's left arm and holding it up so they could both see the blood lazily oozing out of what was nowhere near the worst wound on their body. "You should have forced them to give your armor back too." 

Thuron hissed as they pulled their arm out of Molly's grasp, but they also dropped the blade at his throat, opting instead to grab his arm and pull him forward. 

"Really though, would it have been so difficult to think this through?" 

Thuron turned to face him. "If you insist to talk I _will_ kill-" their eyes widened and they slammed their hand against Molly's mouth. Molly considered biting, but the motion of Thuron's ears stopped him. 

When he shut up, he heard it too, the unmistakable sound of metal against metal. 

Thuron's eyes flicked back and forth, looking for some hideaway, some branch in the sewers that they hadn't previously seen. 

Their current tunnel extended straight in both directions, there was nowhere to go. 

"Hide yourself," they said, releasing their grip on Molly. 

Then they turned their back on him and the Beacon, his radiant sword still clutched in their hand. 

Molly didn't bother to wait until they needed help. He had fought Thuron, he knew that a single well placed blow would drop the drow. 

He followed, and so he watched as Thuron walked right up to a group of three heavily armed Crownsguards and leapt right into the middle of them. 

Their blade buried deep in their first target, a burly man with a mace who didn't have time to scream before he went down in the dirty water. 

The woman next to him reacted more quickly though, stabbing through Thuron's exposed side before they could dance backwards. 

The guard twisted her sword and Thuron fell, even as shadow bled out of the wound and formed a figure that slashed their shadowy sword across the Crownsguard's neck. 

The shadow faded with the soldier's final breath. 

That left Thuron, injured, sunk to the ground in water full of shit, kneeling in front of the last Crownsguard. 

_Well fuck._

Molly lept forward and slammed into the Crownsguard, knocking them both to the ground. He threw up his sword to block the man's clumsy attack and slid the blade down until it buried in the guard's chest. He pressed his weight against the blade, forcing it to sink deeper into the man's body. Eventually, he stopped thrashing. 

Molly sighed and pulled out his sword. "Thuron darling, you can come out," he called, turning around. There was no response. Molly looked down and could just barely see Thuron's shoulder emerging from the water. 

"Oh dear," he said to himself. He crouched down and fished Thuron out of the water, hauling the man back to the relative safety of dry ground. 

For a second, Thuron didn't move. They lay on the cold stone as still as Lucien probably was when he was buried. Molly grimaced and stood up, ready to wash his hands of this particular complication. Right then, Thuron coughed and water spilled out of their mouth. They coughed again and again until finally there was no more water and they were left shivering on the wet stone. 

To leave them now would be to kill them. Molly didn't want that blood on his hands. 

He helped Thuron up, which became draping them over his shoulder as he looked for a proper place to hide. Oddly enough, he'd never camped out in a sewer before, he thought that was an experience a guy like him should probably have. He tried to lead the dark-elf away from the bodies but as he moved Thuron began struggling in his grasp, until he had no choice but to let go. 

Thuron dropped out of his grasp and began searching the nearest body. 

Molly took the time to find his lost sword. 

When they were both done, Molly had his sword and was ten gold richer and Thuron had a short sword, two daggers, the Beacon, and a comically large Crownsguard helmet. They also looked like they were about to fall over, though they shrugged off Molly's hand when he tried to help them. 

He shrugged and walked forward into what was formerly the giant spider's lair. Likelihood was they'd at least be able to catch a night's rest here. 

"Well this certainly isn't ideal, but it's better than an Empirical prison. Which I've been to, by the way, they're not fun." 

"I imagine," Thuron said slowly. They stood there for a couple of minutes before slowly sinking to the ground. They crossed their legs and closed their eyes and Molly wasn't positive but he thought they feel asleep right there. 

Apparently, it fell to him to keep watch. That was fine, he wasn't the one who'd almost bled out twice today.

It struck him that this was the perfect time to escape. He had both his swords, he was uninjured, he even knew where he was, it would be easy enough to just leave. 

But Thuron would die if he did. There was really no question about it. Getting out of the city they might have been able to manage. The injuries? Possibly. The injuries that had soaked in shit water though? Thuron wouldn't survive without help, and they weren't going to seek it out. 

Molly sighed. He had made the decision earlier in the day that he wasn't going to be responsible for Thuron's death. Yes, they were insufferable, and yes, they were probably a danger to the Empire, but as far as he was concerned, the Empire could use a little trouble, and when it came down to it, Thuron had told him to run. 

The question had become then, not whether he would leave, but where he would steer Thuron tomorrow. Would the Gentleman be able to help them? Would it be worth the price? 

Perhaps because he was thinking about the Gentleman, he wasn't entirely surprised when he felt the tip of a blade press against his back. That was something that should worry him, right? That he wasn't concerned about it? 

"You _lied_ to me," Thuron said, pushing the dagger deep enough to cut. "You said you are a friend. Out for your own interests, and no friend of the Empire. Yet you manipulate! You make me talk, you make me believe-" they cut themselves off with a growl, "I should kill you." 

Molly sighed. A charm spell can only last so long. He grabbed Thuron's hand and moved it so the dagger was pressed against the soft flesh under his ribs. "Then go ahead." 

Their hand trembled. If Molly was being generous, he would have called it a symptom of drowning. He wasn't feeling particularly generous. 

"You're not an accomplished assassin are you?" he said. 

"I have killed!" 

"It's different outside of battle I imagine." 

Thuron growled, showing their teeth. 

Molly grinned right back. 

For a tense moment, they glared at each other, then Thuron dropped their blade and turned away. 

"Glad we got that settled. I have no interest in killing you, or in turning you in to the Empire. Nothing I said was a lie, just an hour ago, you were just in a better position to believe it." 

"You should leave," Thuron said. Their hands shook more noticeably now, and they glared at them as if they could intimidate them into lying still.

"You know I thought about that," Molly stood up and Thuron's dagger immediately pointed at him. He rolled his eyes and shrugged out of his coat, which was mostly dry if you ignored everything below the knee. "But I thought it would be more fun to watch what you do next," he said as he draped his coat over Thuron's shoulders. 

Thuron considered fighting, but they must have finally accepted how cold they were because eventually they put the dagger down and huddled deeper into the coat. 

Technically they were both on watch, but Molly had learned his lesson and kept an ear on Thuron. 

So he watched as the drow's eyes closed, as their head drooped toward their chest, as the hours passed and they started to shiver. 

It was hard to keep track of time down here, but Molly thought it was probably around dawn by the time he couldn't sit still any longer and Thuron was shaking enough that Molly was surprised they hadn't woken themselves up. 

"Alright," he said, standing up so he could jump back if they were the kind of person who woke up violently. He shook their shoulder. "Up and at 'em!" 

Thuron didn't move. 

"I know yesterday was full, but the fortunes don't read themselves!" 

No response. 

Molly frowned and pulled on Thuron's ear, a trick he'd used with the twins in the circus. It had never failed him, though it had gotten him punched a couple of times. He tipped Thuron's face up, worry churning in his gut. 

Thuron's skin was pale and clammy, sweat clinging to their brow. Molly swore and checked the wound on their side. He swore again. 

He didn't know a lot, but he knew how quickly an infection could spread and kill. He needed to get Thuron help and the only person he could think of to provide that was Jester. 

he bottom of his coat was disgusting, so Molly made short work of his shirt, tearing it into strips and doing his best to bind the worst of Thuron's wounds. 

"Ah, clever you sly bastard, getting me to strip for you." 

He felt a prickle of desire for his coat, anything to cover even a little of his exposed skin, but he resolutely told himself that he'd made peace with his body years ago. He just preferred to be clothed until he committed to _not_ being clothed.

"At least I have experience with this dear," he told Thuron's unconscious body as he tied off the last of his shirt scraps. "You could have gotten stuck with Yasha who, like you, would have brushed off any offer for help and kept walking until she fell to the ground."

He took a deep breath and tapped his fingers on his horns. In theory he knew the best way to get from these sewers to the Leaky Tap. In practice, that became far more difficult when carrying the unconscious body of the most wanted man in the city.

In theory he knew the best way to get from these sewers to the Leaky Tap. In practice, that became far more difficult when carrying the unconscious body of the most wanted man in the city. 

Molly pulled Thuron forward so that he could position the wall at his back and use it as leverage as he tried to position Thuron in his arms. He wasn't the strongest of tieflings.

"Wow... you really fucked up... by not taking... Jester," he panted. 

Eventually, though, with enough dedication, he managed to sheathe his swords, sling Thuron's body essentially over his shoulder, and grab the Beacon with his free hand. He draped his coat to mostly hide the Beacon, but there was no getting around it, he was fucked if he ran into anyone. 

He prayed to the Moonweaver to make his path swift and the shadows plentiful and then he set out, the weight of his decisions heavy on his back.


End file.
